


the boy she left behind

by ardentiia



Series: Hilspar Week 2020! [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (you'll see what all these tags mean haha), Character Death, F/M, Fake Character Death, Freedom, Gen, Hilspar, I actually got a beta this time guys it's a miracle, Implied Relationships, Mentioned Claude von Riegan, Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Temporary Character Death, To An Extent, failure - Freeform, some of it is canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25544728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentiia/pseuds/ardentiia
Summary: “Where will you go?” Byleth’s voice holds no malice, just curiosity in her pastel green eyes.She shrugs. “North, south, east, west. They’re all the same in the end.” Hilda tugs at her hair, the pink locks framing her face. It’s always been a nervous habit of hers, but it’d become even more prominent in the years after the war. “Just as long as I don’t go back.”---Written for Hilspar Week 2020! Loose prompt: freedom.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Hilda Valentine Goneril, Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Hilda Valentine Goneril & My Unit | Byleth
Series: Hilspar Week 2020! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861456
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	the boy she left behind

Hilda swings her legs, feeling the wind tangle in her hair. The ground seems so far away as she looks down, sitting on the edge of the precipice, perched like a bird ready to fly, soar, fall. She weighs a pebble in her hand. Scooping it up, she flings it out, watches it disappear into the ruins below.

The top of the tower is covered in vines, open to the air and elements, abandoned long ago by nobles who fled the plague. For the past few days, she’d been coming here just to think, to camp out and rest, even for just a little bit. A moment of rest, stolen from the flow of time.

Once Claude had left for Almyra after the war, she’d fled, ghosts trailing her like moths to a flame. She couldn’t see those alive without seeing the opposite; those dead, waiting for her to join them. The blame, heavy on her shoulders, on hers alone.

She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving. Left no notes, no parting gift, no footsteps for them to retrace. And for the past few years, she’d been blissfully alone. Only retreating into villages if necessary, more often than not hunting for her own food and cutting wood for fires. Bouncing from place to place, never staying anywhere for longer than a couple days at most. The lazy, entitled Hilda was gone, but in her place was a scared, failure of a girl. She didn’t know which one was better, and still doesn’t.

After five years, she’d gotten careless. It should have been no surprise that someone found her (but to be honest, she hoped nobody was looking for her). Another piece of her past, waiting for her to tire. A piece that appears in the shape of one Professor Byleth.

The sun bleeds over the horizon, stars in the sky glowing as if a veil had been torn from the edge of the world, revealing treasures unnoticed during the day. She tells herself she could have camped anywhere, even a mud pit in a forest, and she would have been okay with it. But in this place, the abandoned ruins with one tower just intact enough for her to still climb the stairs, she doesn’t think about how it resembles another tower far away, spiraling into the sky above. Doesn’t think about how her mind turns to the boy she left behind, on one knee as she slips a necklace over his neck. Fighting side by side with her, never letting up, even knee-deep in muck. The blazing determination in his cyan gaze, his hair darkened by blood but still, underneath, the same color as his eyes. Those same eyes closed forever.

Hilda closes her eyes now, leaning her head back and letting the tips of her hair drift against the floor. “Hey, Professor. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Byleth stops just behind Hilda, keeping a few feet in between them. Hilda can’t imagine how she looks, so far from the glowing student, smiling, laughing with friends. Now, she has mud caked across her clothes, camouflaging the bright notes. Leggings just barely stitched up by her own hand, ready to rip at the slightest movement. Boots torn and almost falling apart. The only thing still in relatively good condition is her hair, which she never fails to comb every day, and the necklace around her throat, the one with a single blue bead. It’d nearly snapped several times, but she’d always found a way to repair it. Always.

“Hilda. How are you?”

It’s such a bland question that Hilda nearly laughs. “Fine. You?”

“Tired, if I’m going to be honest. But you seem tired too.”

“How can you tell?” Hilda keeps her voice light as she turns to face Byleth. Byleth had always been one of the very few people able to resist her charm, through sheer will or determination, Hilda had no idea. Even now, the professor’s face is just as unreadable as it had been all those years ago, when Hilda had still been young and innocent at the Officer’s Academy.

“Five years, Hilda,” Byleth says softly. “I’ve been looking for you ever since you left.”

Hilda sighs. “You should have given up,” she says bitterly. “I’m leaving today, so you can stop looking.”

“Where will you go?” Byleth’s voice holds no malice, just curiosity in her pastel green eyes.

She shrugs. “North, south, east, west. They’re all the same in the end.” Hilda tugs at her hair, the pink locks framing her face. It’s always been a nervous habit of hers, but it’d become even more prominent in the years after the war. “Just as long as I don’t go back.”

 _Back._ She can’t bring herself to say it. The place where so many of her friends died, fell like stalks of wheat before a sharpened scythe...no, she would never go back. _Could_ never go back. She’d vowed never to set foot there again for as long as she lived. And she takes her promises very seriously. 

Byleth walks forward, and instinctively, Hilda tenses. But the professor doesn’t attack, merely sitting down beside Hilda. “There are people waiting for you,” Byleth says. From her new position, she looks down at the ground far below, at the clouds high above. “They want to see you.”

Hilda laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. “Too many memories,” she says. “Too many faces.”

She knows Byleth of all people can understand, can remember. The stench of death thick in the hazy air. Bloodied features, wounds gaping on soft flesh, some that she made, some that she didn’t. Broken weapons, broken bones, broken bodies. Broken hearts.

She shakes herself with a muted growl, twisting her hair harder to distract from the sting of tears in her eyes. _You were the one that left him,_ she reminds herself. _You made that choice._

_Now, you have to live with it._

A hand grips her shoulder, and she clings to that touch desperately, anchoring herself in a storm of ever-present guilt, shame, grief. “Please, just...think about it, Hilda. They need you, just as much as you need them.”

“I don’t need anyone! Nobody-” Hilda’s voice cracks. She coughs. “I don’t deserve their love.”

“It’s not a matter of deserving.” Byleth pauses. “You know, you’re everything to him.” 

Hilda flinches away from Byleth’s touch, standing too quickly. Holes appear in her tattered leggings. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice cold. 

“Yes, you do.” Byleth stands too, almost a head taller than Hilda. “Hilda, why do you avoid him?”

Hilda shakes her head. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she forces out. 

“Why do you flee?” Byleth presses, ignoring Hilda’s comment.

“I had no choice!” Hilda’s hand inches up to her chest, just grazing the necklace at her throat. She grips the single blue bead hanging there, twisting the chain until it nearly chokes her. “Stop acting like he’s still alive because _I saw him fall!_ ”

Tears glisten on her cheekbones, but she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “I just want to be free, Professor. _Free._ ” She savors the word, even as it turns bitter in her mouth. “I want to be free.”

She repeats it over and over in her head, like a mantra that will come to pass. Freedom, the one thing she sought. Freedom, the one thing she could never have.

“Free from what, Hilda?” Byleth walks closer, and Hilda takes a step back away from the edge, right into a stone pillar. “Free from the nightmares that haunt you? Free from the blood on your hands? You won’t find that in a world apart from him.”

“How do you know?” Her tone is accusatory. “You were the one who sent us into battle. You led us to slaughter. You let us _die._ ”

Her mind churns up memories of blood and bone, screams of pain and the wails of ghosts. Dead. Allies, dead. Friends, dead. Family, dead. 

Him, dead.

The silence stretches between them. Crickets chirp far in the distance, welcoming the sunset, the onset of night. 

Finally, Byleth sighs heavily. “You’re right. I did. And I mourn them every day, just as they mourn you.” 

Hilda blinks. Byleth’s eyes glisten in the setting sun, but she forges on. “But the difference between them and you is you aren’t lost yet. You can still come back.”

“Professor, I failed them. I’m a failure, don’t you see? Going back means they’ll be reminded of how I let their friends die, how I couldn’t protect them. I can’t do that.”

Byleth reaches out her hand, but Hilda smacks it away. “I can’t do that,” she spits viciously, squeezing her eyes shut. “Least of all to him.”

“Why don’t you let him decide?” 

“Because he can’t decide anymore, and you know it.” A shuddering breath. “But I knew him, and he wouldn’t want me back.”

She shakes her head in finality. “I’m sorry, Professor. I can’t.”

She turns on her heel and trudges away down the cracked stairs. Byleth’s footsteps halt, and Hilda can feel the weight of her eyes on her back as the professor fades from view. 

At the bottom of the tower, she faces the sun, letting the last of the light wash over her face. A hand touches her shoulder. She growls without turning around, “Professor, that’s my final answer. I’m not going back with you.”

“What about with me?”

Her eyes fly open. She whirls around, scanning the stranger behind her in seconds. Those eyes and hair, as familiar to her as her own. The calluses on his hands scraping gently against her skin, the axe that hangs from his belt after that day she challenged him to try and be better at it than her, knowing he wouldn’t back down. Even the necklace that hangs around his neck, identical to her own, except his bead is a shimmering pale pink.

Her voice is hoarse, a mere whisper, but he still hears it.

“How?”

His smile crinkles his eyes, just as she remembers. 

“I did say I’ll never leave you alone.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And I take my promises very seriously.”

She takes a step towards him, still not quite believing her eyes. Her hand reaches out, but she stops just a few inches from his chest, afraid of what she’ll find. “It can’t be,” she whispers, half to herself. “You’re- you _died_. I saw you die.”

His arms reach out, and she flinches. She pulls her arm away, but not before he takes her hand, wrapping her fingers in his. He raises her hand, settling it against his cheek. 

“I nearly did,” he says softly. She can feel the muscles in his jaw working against her palm, the light stubble on his chin. “The healers said my heartbeat stopped a couple of times, and I don’t remember a lot about what happened after I fell. But when I woke up, you were gone. They told me you fled but...”

He turns his head, kissing the inside of her palm. “But here you are.”

She remembers the last time she touched his lips, the blue tinge, the cold. The heart that stopped beating, the chest that stopped breathing, the wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

But here he is. Warm. Smiling. _Alive._

A laugh escapes her, a choked, relieved gasp as she flings herself into his arms. He stumbles slightly, surprised, but once he recovers, he buries his face in her hair. Even as she tries to hold them in, the sobs she’d been holding in burst out of her. She’s trembling all over, her hands fisted in his shirt as he holds her to keep her from falling. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He pats her back in soothing circles. “I’m here now, aren’t I? You don’t need to cry.”

“You’re so stupid!” Hilda hits his chest, but there’s not much force behind it. “Why’d you let me think that you were dead?”

He averts his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again.”

Hilda looks up. “Of course I would,” she says, sniffling. “You stupid, stubborn ox, of course I would. I love you.”

She hits him a little harder to emphasize her point. “You hear that? I love you, Caspar von Bergliez.” She hits him again. “ _I love you_ , so don’t you _dare_ leave me again.”

“Didn’t I already promise that?”

“Promise me again!”

He chuckles, and soon, they’re both laughing, overwhelmed by the joy of seeing each other again. She’s breathless, eyes stinging with tears, the ache of those that they’ve lost heavy on her mind. He’d returned, but many didn’t. She remembers what it was like before the war, before they all threw their friendships to hell. But in his arms, she felt an emotion bloom in her chest, a hope, a wish for the future she thought she’d never have. Impossibilities made anew, made possible by his side.

“I love you too, Hilda,” he says. She looks up at him, and he smiles softly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, wiping away the tears settling there. “And I promise I will never leave you.”

He kisses her then, lips settling on hers, fitting into place as if proving that the place she belongs, the place she can’t possibly feel like a failure, is with him. It’s always been with him, but she pushed him away for all these years, letting her mistakes and regrets consume her. But at that moment, none of it haunts her. 

When at last he breaks away, she blinks, still feeling the warm press of his mouth on hers. Her chest feels strangely tight, and she thinks it’s because she forgot to breathe.

At last, she mutters, “You better not,” but she can’t muster up any anger to keep the frown on her face.

At the sound of a small cough behind them, she turns. Byleth stands a few yards away, a small smile on her face. “I knew I wouldn’t be the one to convince you,” Byleth says with a hint of amusement.

Hilda examines the professor. “You were right,” she says, casually stepping away from Caspar. She enfolds his hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. “I just…” Caspar squeezes back. “I just refused to see it.”

Byleth nods. “I’ll see you soon,” she says, disappearing back into the tower. A moment later, they hear the whoosh of wings, and a wyvern soars away, scales glittering pale among the stars.

“Soon,” Hilda echoes. 

She turns to Caspar, who’s still grinning. “What?”

“I’m just really, really happy to see you again,” he says. She laughs, feeling a pink flush spread across her cheeks. “And I’m sure everyone else will feel the same.”

Hilda hesitates. For so long, she’d avoided this. Going back, seeing the missing, the lost, the dead amongst their ranks. The gaps in their house. She’d failed them, in more ways than one. She couldn’t bring them back, couldn’t protect them from the cold finality of a tomb.

But there is one failure that she can still fix, and she would make it right.

She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. She nods. 

“Let’s go see our friends again.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first time participating in a FE3H fandom week (seriously) !! 
> 
> After I wrote the two fics I have for Hilspar Week 2020 I realized that neither of them really fit the prompts...so think of these fics as very loosely based on the prompts. This one's inspiration was freedom, which Hilda does mention, but also failure (which wasn't exactly a prompt...oops).
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> I'm on [Twitter as @ardentiia](https://twitter.com/ardentiia) !


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